Lita knelt on Amaranth’s painted chest; she leaned over the young woman and tied Amaranth’s wrists to the binding posts on the cold stone altar. Amaranth pulled at the bindings not in an attempt to escape, but to test the strength of Lita’s knots.

“I thought this waited until after you have given me your token.” Amaranth said with a smirk as Lita turned atop her. The older priestess looped rope around Amaranth’s ankles and looped it through holes in the Altar; when pulled tight, Amaranth’s legs spread wide.

“This is for me.” Lita said while giving the insides of Amaranth’s thighs some playful slaps. Amaranth’s hips jerked under Lita – she bounced the priestess in her lap with her movements. “Aren’t we eager?” Lita said with a smirk. Lita climbed off of Amaranth and knelt between her knees.

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“Are you ready to continue?” The high priestess, Lita, asked Amaranth. She wrapped her hands around Amaranth’s waist and held her close. Amaranth dripped sweat from all her pours – the moisture accentuated the contrast between her skin and the black ink that covered her body in thin lines.

“Can I have some water first?” Amaranth asked in a whisper.

“Not until after the ritual. I’m sorry.” Lita said. “There are only seven more to please before you can face the altar. It won’t be long now”

“Do you think they will be more… creative than the others?” Amaranth asked.

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Amaranth stood at the altar of the great temple – her body covered in intricately drawn patterns of black ink. She gazed blindly towards the back of the large chamber – past the assembled congregation of her peers. The high priestess of the temple, her mentor Lita, stood behind her wearing ceremonial red loin cloth and jewelry – which is much more than the initiate priest standing before her.

“You know what is going to happen, correct?” Lita asked Amaranth in a whisper.

“I do.” Amaranth answered.

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The crackle of burning sapwood gently woke Naomi from her sleep to discover the bed was otherwise empty. A heavy robe had been laid across her legs over the covers. She pulled the robe under the covers and wiggled herself into it before she slipped from the bed. She walked into the other room and stood by the warm fire. She could see her host through the window; Calia sat naked in the snow.

Calia stood from the mound of snow she built around herself and turned around. She smiled when she saw Naomi through the window. She quickly brushed the clinging snow from her flesh and returned to the small home. “Good morning.” She said as she entered.

Naomi sat by the fire and warmed her hands. She pulled the robe tight to her skin. “How long did I sleep?” She asked as she looked at the sun high in the sky.

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Amaranth knelt nude on the cold stone altar in the darkened temple with her long black hair gathered over her shoulder to expose the pale skin of her smooth back to the high priestess behind her. The young woman’s chin pressed into her chest and her eyes stayed closed. She kept her hands on her spread knees with the palms open and exposed. The older woman, who dressed in a crimson loin cloth and wore ornate jewelry, painted intricate patterns on the younger woman’s back in what looked like black ink.

“How much longer?” Amaranth asked.

The older woman, Sister Lita who appeared to the young Amaranth to be no older than thirty, dipped her brush into the icy ink again and brought the soft bristles to the young woman’s skin. “Another week, perhaps two.” She said as she painted yet more delicate lines on the young woman’s flesh.

“I mean for this pose, sister.” Amaranth said. “My back hurts from holding it.”

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The young woman stood in the doorway, covered in her heavy cloak and shivering. The snow blew into the home through wisps of her red hair. Her lips turned blue from exposure. She gazed pleadingly with green eyes to the lithe woman who opened the door.

She didn’t speak; she didn’t need to. Her host ushered her in quickly and closed the door behind her. “Get that wet cloak off and sit by the fire.” The host insisted. The young woman complied; she took off her cloak and handed it to her host. The young woman rubbed her arms and sat next to the hearth. Frost covered the young woman’s skin where it was exposed to the elements. She was not well dressed for the weather; her upper thighs and shoulders were only covered by the cloak, and the rest was clad only in thin leather.

She took a moment to examine her host; a lithe woman with white – almost blue – skin and ears that came to the subtlest of points that parted the sheets deep blue and black hair that flowed down her shoulders and back. She wore a very thin lace white dress that gave the young woman a good impression of her hosts intimate features.

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